The No Fly Zone

Flying, for me, is never an easy feat. Not, you know, because I need to be medicated within an inch of my life to get on a plane or anything. I actually like to fly and am not a particularly nervous flier despite the whole nearly dying on the way back from LA thing that happened back in January.

(I submit that if I am to die on a motherfucking plane, there better be some motherfucking snakes, just because, you know, well, obviously)

But when I get on a plane, it’s always something with me.

Mostly, it’s because the world thinks I’m a terrorist or a super-secret-super-spy, which is probably the most laughable thing one could think about me because I can barely hide what I’m thinking, let alone if I were holding the world’s secrets in my bag or something.

(I do not play Poker, obviously, unless it is for pocket change)

This whole “Aunt Becky is a Terrorist” thing started when I was a kid, actually. I started getting pulled aside for extra searches long before 9-11 and the shoe bomber ever made headlines around the world.

When I was a kid, they’d often tear apart my stuffed animals in front of my stricken face to make sure that I wasn’t smuggling…uh…I don’t know what in them. Unsatisfied by the mere stuffing within, they’d move onto my luggage, and rip that apart, too.

Clearly, they never found anything. Your Aunt Becky may cop to many charges: ‘obnoxious,’ ‘painfully annoying,’ highly irritating,’ and ‘devastatingly handsome,’ but ‘terrorist’ and ‘drug smuggler’ are not two of them.

For some reason, every time I go through security, no matter what city I’m in, I’m constantly singled out for pat-downs, occasional strip-searches and the rare back-room interrogation.

My past is about as glamorous as dry toast, and while I have toured Europe (twice) with a traveling orchestra, it was never to any of the countries that might even raise an eyebrow. Even my current name: “Rebecca Sherrick Harks” or my given name “Rebecca Elizabeth Sherrick” aren’t exactly inspired to make you think, ‘Wow, that’s a terrorist name!’

In fact, I am primarily Swedish, Scottish, English and Black Irish, if you must know my pedigree. My swarthiness comes from the Black Irish.

And you know, if it had happened a handful of times, I’d have written it off as a coincidence. But it’s happened far too often for that. There’s clearly something in My Permanent Record that says,

“Rebecca Sherrick Harks (a.k.a Rebecca Elizabeth Sherrick), VERY bad blogger, likes to hang out in serial killer section of hardware stores, possible person of interest and should ALWAYS be subjected to extra security.”

It took me watching the full two seasons of Life, (boo, NBC, bring that show back!) to realize what my problem was: I do kinda look a little Middle Eastern.

I guess this means that until I remarry someone with a TOTALLY vanilla name (I’m looking at YOU Mr. John Smith), dye my skin and hair, I’ll probably always get a little action with my plane ticket.

Comments

37 Responses to The No Fly Zone

You should totally take a teddy bear with you and when they rip it apart, burst into tears about how it’s for your niece who’s really really sick and all she wanted in this world was that specific teddy bear. And then glare at them and say “Way to go TSA. Thanks for making me the least favorite aunt this year.”

My husband actually looks like a terrorist. If I were Mrs. TSA I would do a public strip search on his ass looking for shoe bombs and shit! Problem is: he goes through security with no problems and I ALWAYS go through the “extra security”. I’ve been through the full body scan so many times that I swear I have cancer- somewhere! Maybe it’s because we’re cute, caucasion women- yes Becky, we have some similarities-it’s uncanny! Or maybe they just want to feel our boobs!

I used to never get stopped. now I *always* do. I’m pretty sure it’s because of my uber liberal rants over the phone. you never know who is listening (according to my dad). but so I must be on several watch lists by now. but hell, in my opinion, if you haven’t made it on some kind of list, you must be doing it wrong.

I totally love the t-shirt. Think it would be a bit much to wear it to the PTO meetings? And I don’t know who the guy on the show Life is, but I think he’s hot. AND, last night I watched Plain Jane and I really love that show. AND AND! I tend to get the extra pat down search everywhere..I’ve only flown something like four times and each time on the way there and back, I was searched as were my things…….I also get searched more thoroughly at concerts and special events

I loved Life – that was a most awesome show. Obviously it had to be cancelled. And that guy – whatever the star’s name is – he was really great in Band of Brothers too.

Anyway, good luck flying. Hope you don’t get the random check…and to avoid it, might I suggest talking very loudly in line about how you always get subjected to extra inspection, and you wonder why people are profiling you because you’re fucking IRISH, for God’s sake, and you hope this time will be different (with pointed looks at the screeners).

I think I am boring as hell, old, white, nothing unusual–really, NOBODY wants to see my saggy boobs. And yet, i get searched, patted and strip searched everytime i fly anywhere. (i guess a ‘cavity’ search would be the next step) I thought it must just be the US, but it happened in germany, france, italy and hungary. YOU on the other hand are just too cute…and you have boobs! Oh yeah, and i LOVE the whore mouth shirt, but i need a unisex, small.

Until I was 21 I got stopped all the time. Now not so much. I’m half Iranian like the actress – pity I don’t look quite like that. You don’t have enough nose for an Iranian but could be maybe Lebanese?

I used to have to travel pretty frequently with my boss for work, and she got it every. single. time. I swear she never freaking caught on to it. She would try to go through with her belt, she wouldn’t take off her shoes, she would just be a huge dummy about it.

man! I complained loudly to my “friends” because I got pulled aside once. Once. I was limping from a newly healed broken leg, and they thought I was carrying contraband or something- who knows. I can’t imagine having to deal with that crap often.

It used to irritate my friend in the military to wits end. He’d be in uniform, in the airport to fly to god-knows-where on deployment, with his military ID, papers with his orders, etc. And even after showing it all he’d be pulled out for super screening by TSA every time. His ethnic background is Turkish. But he’s been a US citizen all his life. The looks or the name are enough to make you suspect. Even if you’re on your way to fight for the very country TSA is trying to protect from you.

I went from Zaiger to Edmonds…And now I don’t even get a second glance. You would think that I was a certified Nazi by the way they scrutinized me when I travelled. Now? ”
Meh. She’s blonde and white and come ON her name is totally VANILLA! Go away.”

Are you kidding me? The wee baby in that picture AND the older one of you don’t look remotely middle eastern.
Now. TRY to think back to college and remember what all you did while under the influence. There must be SOMETHING bad/suspicious/illegal?

I get stopped a lot too. On a band trip to France when I was in high school, my carry-on got torn apart by a large man shouting “whatz zees? Whatz zees?”. My teddy bear, underwear and piccolo were all tossed about in front of my peers. Very embarassing. Don’t know why I get stopped a lot because I’m a real life Ginger. It’s almost as if they stop me so they can say, ” See, no racial profiling here!”

Too much honesty is sometimes a bad thing. I’m of polish/irish descent, so pretty vanilla, and my downfall seems to be telling them I was travelling from Ottawa to Raleigh by car (16 hrs straight yo) for a dog’s birthday party…and coming back two days later.
Also a bad idea to fly to Phoenix for the weekend because ‘I want to see the Grand Canyon’
You get bomb sniffed a lot when you travel on a whim.

My name is Michelle Miller and that name is on a terrorist watch list. I found this when I came back from Jamaica. Of course, the Michelle Miller that they were looking for was Mexican and I am as white as snow, so they believed me when I said I wasn’t her, so that’s good…

Dude, I have TSA stories for you. Remind me to tell you about the time I got selected for extra screening because I was wearing a kilt. Remind me to tell you what happened when the screener told me to remove it!

I LOVE your blog. You are my new hero. BTW, I am fair, freckled, dark blonde, green eyes, and have been searched, harassed, pulled aside, questioned, and even pulled into a back room in a third world country, and watched my luggage get a serious molesting (almost as thorough as the molesting I received). EVERY time I fly I get this. Meanwhile, my husband, who is traveling with me is left alone to watch the show. Not cool.